


Network Connectivity

by orchidbreezefc



Category: Marvel 616, Uncanny X-Men, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Healing, Learning Powers, M/M, Puppies, Tutoring, Veterinary Clinic, WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED, puppies!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/pseuds/orchidbreezefc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel the younger asks Triage for help learning to unlock his healing powers. Failing to find traditional means, they end up working on it in the most adorable fashion possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Network Connectivity

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the title is a bit corny. To be fair the working title was Puppy Juggling: The Fanfic.
> 
> Anyway, this is my pet crackship. This fic was born out of some combination of me being mad at Bendis's writing and the realization that I'm a writer and I can write fic for my ship as much as I want.
> 
> Warnings: (briefly) wounded/sick animals, quick mention of those animals being abused/abandoned.

Being hemophobic all your life and then finding out you have the mutant power of healing wounds would seem like a bum deal to most people, but you are Christopher Muse, and it’s a far day from now that anybody will accuse Chris Muse of being unable to roll with the punches.

You thought it was pretty cool, in the end. You got some steampunk goggles delivered to the next town to pick up, and a big-ass Gandalf staff. You always liked to think of yourself as a lover, not a fighter, so if you were getting roped into this X-Men business one way or the other, healing is a pretty good gig. You're immune to all the moral struggles and stuff the rest of them are absorbed in; you do good, you help people, end of story. 

You knew your friend Warren for a long time before either you or he knew he had healing powers at all. All the adults knew the adult version of him (he hates the phrase 'older self') and took it for granted, but apparently nobody had thought to tell the guy himself that he had them.

Naturally, Warren comes to you. He explains that all he’s ever healed is himself, and he doesnt know if that’s really him using his powers or him just healing faster than most people. 

The thing everyone forgets is for a while, before the other time-traveling kids came through, you guys were his only friends. You bonded. You _like_ Warren. So sure, you said, you would help. But you didn't know how you could practice healing without getting anyone hurt.

The obvious course of action is to find a hospital, but Illyana resents being used as a bus and Warren's wings tire out fast. Cyclops-in-charge would come up with some convoluted dangerous terrifying mission for you, but Miss Frost just rolls her eyes and tells you about the motorcycle in the garage.

It's not much to look at, really; Warren actually wrinkles his nose at it. But you remind him how far the flight would be, and he loosens up.

Then it's his turn to convince you to drive it, because it's not like you could hold onto him around his wings. You don't like the look of the thing much, but you have a driver's license and Warren's family had a Harley, so between the two of you, you can probably work it out.

Warren climbs on behind you and covers your hands to show you where to hold and what to twist/push/pull. His wings flare out to keep you balanced while he walks you through it, and the two of you go through a little practice--some of the other students come out to watch you do wheels in the snow, then park and unpark yourself.

“You sure you don't want to try riding behind me?” Angel asks one last time, and you imagine a faceful of wing. Right now he’s leaning over your shoulder to talk to you, his whole body lined up against your back, his arms firm and tight around your waist. You’re pretty sure by now that he runs a temperature higher than most humans/mutants, and it's a welcome brace against the chill.

And the alternative: just a whole faceful of feathers.

“I’m fine," you say. "Let's go before we lose too much daylight."

You go to the next town, Warren using a phone suped up by Hank to navigate for you. “Think we should give it another town over?” Warren asks on the way in, fluttering his wings a little against the wind. “You know, not be too blatant about this being the town all the supposedly-hidden X-Men go to?"

“Sounds to me like someone is enjoying the ride too much," you joke, and Warren grins his dazzling smile in your side mirror. “Nah," you continue. “Healing wears you out. We don’t want to make the ride home any longer."

As it turns out, this rural town doesn’t have a hospital, but it does have a vet's office. You and Angel look at each other and shrug. Close enough, right?   
The awkward part is going in, looking at each other again, and Warren clearing his throat, putting on his best smile, leaning over the counter, and saying, “Hello, my friend and I here are a pair of healers, and we were wondering if you have any injured animals we could help out with.”

You and the receptionist both stare blankly at him for a moment, and he sends an irritated ‘help me out here’ look your way. “The thing is, we’re mutants,” you explain hastily, adjusting your goggles and gesturing to Warren’s wings. "With healing powers. We need to"—‘stretch our wings’, you almost say—"work our muscles. Don’t use it, you lose it, you know."

Warren nods eagerly. The receptionist squints at him for a moment, then says, "Y'know, I think I heard of some angel guy before. One a those X-Men types."

"Yes, that's me!" Warren enthuses, then throws an arm around your shoulders. "That's us, X-Men."

"Hm. Thought you'd be older," she says, sounding somewhat disappointed. You feel a bit jealous--imagine being able to get girls that easy! Not this particular woman, of course, but still. Girls. In general.

"Well," she continues, "checkup rooms are that-a-way, OR's in the back if you think you can do some good there."

You grab Warren's arm and shuffle close to him as he strides in that direction with purpose. "Have I mentioned I'm really rather quite a bit hemophobic?" you mumble.

"I know," he says. "It's okay, you can do bruises, broken bones. I'll take care of the blood." He leads you confidently back and sticks his head in a few doors, offering gallant waves to the confused occupants before moving on.

You come upon a room where a veterinarian is taking care of a group of puppies under a lamp. One sneezes and Warren practically bursts into the room, bright-eyed and bushy-feathered. "Are these puppies sick or injured?" he exclaims, checking the underside of one of their paws. 

"We're healers," you explain to the doctor, wiggling your staff demonstratively. "Can we help with those puppies?"

The doctor looks you up and down. "Mutants, are you? My niece used to be one of those. Not the healing type, but you get it." He brightens up a little. "Say, could you tell me if these little fellas've got anything beyond some sniffles? Found the poor things by the side of the road, may've got any type of disease."

Warren beams at you. "Don't look too excited there, Angel," you say, and reach past him to pick up one of the puppies. "This one has pneumonia," you say. "He feels--mugged up. Can you feel it?" You hold it out to Warren, who puts down the puppy he's holding. He puts his hands around your puppy and closes his eyes.

"It doesn't feel like anything," he says.

"You have to reach out with your mind. Kind of your soul. See this one?" You scoop up the third puppy and hold it out to Warren. "This one's okay. You don't get that cloudy feeling from him."

Warren takes your puppy, and there he is, an angel man with an armful of puppies, wearing an incredibly serious face. In one way it's really funny, but on the other hand he looks like he's a model in a photoshoot for a calendar. 

"Okay, I feel the difference," he says after a moment. "Now how do I heal it?"

You're not sure how this part of the mentoring process is supposed to go, but fake it 'til you make it, right? "It's inside you already," you explain, "you just have to reach for it, focus until you feel it. It wants to come out, you just have to open a path in yourself." Wow, that sounded pretty good. 

"Like this," you continue. "There's a network of energy inside him, you just have to connect to it." You put your hands on the flank of the dog in his arms, and run them softly along some invisible line, all routes redirected now to the lungs. You let the power in yourself flow down the lines, and then the puppy coughs, blinks, looks around, and yips. 

"Wow," Warren breathes, "you're a natural!"

"Well, yeah." You adjust your goggles. "It is genetic."

He puts the puppies down for the veterinarian to herd, and you hand him the last one. "Is this one sick or not? Can you tell?" you prompt. 

Warren stares very hard at the less-than-energetic puppy. "Something about the lungs again and--the leg?" He turns the dog over to check, and sure enough, there's a sore on his leg. 

"Well, go for it."

Warren nods and focuses. You see his perfect lips form the words 'network' and 'energy', and then his hands are glowing in white tendrils almost like fog. The puppy shivers, and then looks around, sniffing the air and making an inquisitive noise. Where the sore was, its leg is clean and furry.

"I did it!" Warren exclaims. "And it felt fantastic!" He pulls you in for a hug, minding the dog; you laugh and clap his back, then give the puppy a scratch for good measure. It yips adorably. 

"Anything else we can help with?" Warren asks, proudly presenting the vet with a healthy, squirming puppy.

"Why, not just yet," says the vet, wonderingly smoothing the dog's leg over. "Say, do you young men have a phone number I can call you at? It's a bit unorthodox, but I'd sure like to have someone on call--just for emergencies, you understand."

"Well, we shouldn't really give out our numbers," Warren begins, but you nudge him with your elbow. 

"Sure. We could use the experience. We'd love to." You scribble your number on a scrap of paper the doctor offers you, pocket the pawprint-marked pen on his insistence (it has the office's number on it), and bid him good day. 

The two of you go out the way you came into the blue-skied day. Warren is humming sunnily; it's more beautiful than songbirds.

"Ready?" you ask, strapping on your helmet and preparing to mount the motorcycle.

"Hang on," Warren says, and you stop and turn to him. "I want to see if--if I can access your, what did you call it? Energy network. If we can connect ours, maybe."

"Why?" you ask, bewildered. 

"Just worth a try," he says, shrugging. "Not many mutants around with healing powers, right?"

"Okay. Sure. Let's do it!" You clap your hands and he grins. Angel takes your hand, then holds it up and joins it to his hand Tarzan-and-Jane style. 

Both of you sober up and concentrate. You try not to feel a little jealous when he starts glowing before you do, but then that feeling is swept away by the sudden intensity of connection. There's a sudden influx of energy and you're pouring out too, like a closed circuit of wild electricity.

"Wow," you say. "I've never felt anything quite this--"

"Intimate?" Warren breathes. 

You wrinkle your nose. "I was thinking a word that wasn't quite so--"

"Beautiful?"

You blink, then squint at Angel, who looks quite affected. "Are you listening to me?"

He looks at you for a couple moments. "No," he admits, and fits his lips to yours.

He kisses you there for a while, one hand clasped in yours and the other on the dirty green motorbike. It's so good it takes you a while to remember you're not supposed to be gay, and as soon as you pull back Warren smiles so brilliantly at you that you decide you can work out the labels later as long as you can get more of that taste of him. 

Anyway, you let him pull your hair out of your ponytail and touch it and well, it would take quite a lady for you to let her do that.

"That's some power," you exhale, watching silver sparks dissipate from Warren's mouth when you pull away again. 

"Magic," he agrees, touching your lips. "Has anyone told you you're beautiful?"

"No. But I suppose you've been told enough for us both."

"Yeah," Angel laughs. "Yeah, I have." He kisses you again. 

The ride home, when you get around to it, isn’t nearly as tiring as you expected. You think maybe next time you will go the next town over, just to have Angel hold onto you that little bit longer.


End file.
